


In Our Thoughts

by Angelchexmex



Category: Spider-Man - All Media Types, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Big Bang Challenge, Dad!Tony, Kisses, Loki bieng helpful, Magic, Multi, Peter&Tony Big Bang 2018, Superfamily (Marvel), Therapy, non-graphic injury, teenagers kissing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-07
Updated: 2018-02-07
Packaged: 2019-03-15 05:10:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,809
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13606233
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Angelchexmex/pseuds/Angelchexmex
Summary: Peter knows something is wrong. It’s in the way he can never remember Gwen and Harry’s names, and he’s sometimes terrified of Captain America even though Steve is his Pops, and the world seems more dream than reality. Now, Peter just has to figure out why he keeps remembering someone named Ned and MJ and why he wants to call his Dad Mr. Stark and why he can see a girl dying in his dreams. Most of all, he just wants the pain in his side to stop. Maybe Loki can help?





	In Our Thoughts

**Author's Note:**

> So I wrote this for the Tony & Peter Big Bang, the lovely artist who was kind enough to choose my story and make amazing illustrations for it will be posting them later today on Tumblr and I'll then add those pictures as a second chapter with links to the original Tumblr post. 
> 
> There were supposed to be itallics at certain parts, so please tell me if anything in confusing and I'll try to add them back in. (Can someone please tell me how to do that? And maybe how to make the line thing on here? Those are awesome and I have no idea how to do them.)
> 
> I hope you all like this and please leave a review!!

“I saw a girl die,” he stated, except the words felt wrong on his tongue. That wasn’t exactly true, something about that sentence was intrinsically wrong.

“I saw a woman die,” he tried again but that was even worse: She had been barely older than he was. He’d seen a girl die, a teenager, a senior in high school. He’d watched a world of possibilities and potential fade. He’d watched dreams and ambitions snuffed out. He’d stared into her eyes as intelligence and kindness and humanity all fell away. He watched life disappear from her limbs. He remembered everything he’d seen in her eyes, the fear and the determination, the life and the despair, the hope and the acceptance, but he couldn’t remember the color of her eyes. He remembered the way blood pooled around her body but not what she’d looked like. 

But above all else he remembered, he remembered that, “She was my friend,” he whispered, the words barely leaving his mouth and his hands curled into fists on his thighs. “I watched my friend die,” and for all that the sentence ached and burned inside his chest, it finally felt right. That was the truth he’d been reaching for. 

“I saw my friend die, and I did nothing,” he stated louder than before, tears burning at the back of his eyes. He’d been so completely and utterly useless as she’d gone limp and empty. She’d been a shell that had once held life and vibrance and dreams and hopes and possibilities. He’d watched a million futures disappear from the world and it still haunted him. His head ached and his body throbbed and he pressed his hands against the sharp pain in his side that always came when he thought about her too much.

He hated it, hated everything so much. She was dead and it was his fault. His fault, his fault, his fault. He’d killed his own friend because he’d been too weak, because he’d been too slow, because he’d been too stupid.

“And how often do you have this dream?” Peter’s eyes snapped to his therapist, part of him wanting to snap back that it wasn’t a dream, that he saw it every time he closed his eyes. But it had been a dream, a nightmare he endured every night. He’d searched in the beginning for someone who really had died, but he hadn’t found anything and eventually his Pops had figured out that something was wrong. Thus here he was, talking to a therapist that thought he was either delusional or paranoid. More often than not, Peter wondered the same thing. 

“Every few weeks,” Peter lied. He was getting tired of talking about it and tired of his parents looking at him like he’d break at any moment and tired of the nearly incapacitating pain that he sometimes felt in his side. 

“That sounds very stressful, being so worried about your friends’ safety that you can’t even escape in your dreams.” Peter made an agreeing noise in the back of his throat, checking the time to see how much longer he had. Each session lasted an entire hour, and Peter wished he could cut down on the time but he’d barely been able to convince his Dad he didn’t need two hours of therapy every three days. 

“That’s nothing compared to school,” Peter joked, trying to both lighten the mood and perhaps distract his therapist from his dream. It was the only thing they ever really talked about after all and there were only so many times he could repeat the same nonsense and pretend that he was actually working with any of the things she told him to do. 

“Is something going on at school?” Peter bit back a groan, he really had opened himself up to that one. Still, talking about school would be so much easier and as his thoughts shifted to school and leaving and his frustration with his therapist, the pain in his side faded away to nothing.

“School is going fine, I have a girlfriend and everything. I’m the picture perfect well adjusted teenager.” Peter assured, knowing full well that no matter how many times he said that he was a ‘well adjusted teenager’ his therapist would never believe him. Why should she when she always talked afterwards with his parents and they always listed things that they thought Peter was being weird about?

“How are your other relationships at school?” Peter stopped trying to fight back his frustrated reactions and simply flopped sideways on the sofa he was sitting on. 

“They’re fine,” he groaned into the cushion, “everything is fine. I’m happy and I smile and the only problem in my life right now is talking to a therapist all the time!” Yelling that probably wasn’t the best way to prove his point, but Peter was still hopeful it would get something through to the woman. 

“Alright, Peter, why don’t we stop here for today? It’s a bit early but you seem a bit tired right now. Would you like to stop for today?” Peter nodded silently into his Cushion of Protection. She really was a nice woman for all that she was a Super Scary SHIELD Spy, not to be mixed up with the Super Scary SHIELD Superhero Spy which was Auntie Nat. 

“I hope you have a good day then Peter, and please remember to work on what we talked about.” Peter wanted to say something sassy, something even a bit biting about what she could do with the things they’d talked about, but the first time he’d lost his temper at her, his parents had been so upset and then had become even more determined that all of this insanity was necessary. 

Personally, Peter really didn’t see the problem. He had a scary dream every so often, every time he closed his eyes he could see her blood, and sometimes it was hard for him to sleep, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d gotten six solid hours of sleep with medication, but that didn’t mean he needed help or something, he was just falling apart at the seams after all. Peter was just glad that all his parents knew about were the dreams. He hadn’t mentioned the pain or the missing memories or the things he knew but just shouldn’t.

“Peter?” Peter groaned into his Cushion of Protection in reply as his Pops, and presumably his Dad too, entered the room. The only saving grace of being the child of the Avengers was that his therapist came to him and not the other way around so he could just lay dead on this sofa for ages and ages. 

“Peter she’s just trying to help,” Pops began, the cushion by Peter’s feet dipping as he sat down. Someone else ruffled Peter’s hair and he buried his face further into the Cushion of Protection in a hope that it would actually do its job and protect him. 

“Not talking about this isn’t going to help,” Pops continued and Peter debated kicking him, lightly though because Peter wasn’t stupid enough to break his foot on Captain America’s thigh. 

“Budge up, Pete and let me sit. I’m not as young as I used to be,” Peter turned his head just enough to free one eye to look at his Dad who was standing perfectly fine thank-you-very-much and did not at all look like he was getting older.

“Did Tony Stark just admit to aging?” Pops joked. Peter just turned his head back into the couch and ignored them both. He didn’t want to talk, he wanted to do something. He’d tried to convince them before that what he was seeing might be a premonition of some kind, but they hadn’t even entertained the idea.

“Come on, Pete,” Dad whined, “aren’t you supposed to respect your elders?”

“I’m not going to leave the Cushion of Protection,” Peter replied, voice muffled.

“What?” Dad asked, poking at Peter’s head when he didn’t respond. 

“Cushion of Protection,” Peter stated louder, pulling his head up just enough to get the words out properly before flopping back down. 

“Cushion of Protection,” Pops muttered in amusement. “I don’t know who taught you that, but cushions would make horrible shields. I should know.”

Peter snorted, cushions were the ultimate shields.

“A cushion wouldn’t even help against someone who was unarmed,” Dad agreed and Peter sputtered in indignation, popping up into a sitting position and pointing an accusing finger at his Dad.

“You’re the one who taught me that!” Dad blinked, before shrugging and sitting in the spot Peter had accidentally left open.

“I think you’ll have to blame Clint for that one,” Dad refuted. “But, now that you’ve decided to join us, I’ve been thinking. Are you still convinced this isn’t just a dream?”

“Tony,” Pops warned, but Peter was excited now. He knew this wasn’t a dream, he just knew it. 

“Yeah,” Peter stated before his Pops could say anything else, “I know it’s not just a dream. It can’t be.”

“Then how about I try and find this person?” Tony suggested. “I’ll make a program to remember all of your friends and anyone who matches any descriptions you give me will be flagged. We can even flag locations or times or circumstances.”

“Really?” Peter asked, bouncing in his seat and ignoring the pain that was beginning in his side again. 

“Yeah, JARVIS can even help and-” Peter didn’t hear what else his Dad said, his mind stuck on the word JARVIS. Something about that was wrong, something about that didn’t make sense. His Dad’s AI was called FRIDAY wasn’t she? She was sassy and fun and still learning things just like Karen. 

For a moment the world blurred in front of Peter’s eyes and smoke burned his eyes and pain burned in his side. There was blood on the ground and in his mouth and on his hands. Someone was screaming something that was his name but wasn’t and he couldn’t hear what they were saying but he knew the words anyway. He had to move, had to help someone but he couldn’t. Something pinned him in place and everything hurt and-

“Peter?” Gwen asked, popping in front of his face causing him to jump. “Woah there Peter,” she grinned, putting both her hands up in a calming gesture, “got a bit lost in thought huh?” 

“Lost in thought?” Peter questioned, blinking in confusion as he took in the fact that he was just standing in the middle of a hallway in his high school. “Uh, yeah, I guess I kind of was.” 

“Well come on then, if we’re late to lunch we won’t be able to spend any alone time with Harry before school ends,” Gwen slipped her hand into Peter’s and pulled him along. But, who was Harry? 

“What are we doing after school?” Peter asked, figuring that was a safe question. He could have almost sworn that he wasn’t at school just a few seconds ago but he could also distinctly remember just leaving English, which was always awful because Flash sat right behind him and never stopped bothering him. 

“We can go to my house today,” Gwen replied, dragging Peter farther and farther from the cafeteria. Actually, they were flat out leaving the school building. “Since your parents still don’t know about us and Harry’s dad might actually be home my place is the safest bet.”

“Know about us?” Peter questioned as they finally exited the school. Gwen threw him a strange look, but-

“You missed one, Underoos,” Mr. Stark pointed to a spot on his neck and Peter immediately flushed and slapped a hand over the spot. 

“It’s-it’s not what you think!” Peter practically squeaked, voice high and desperate. He had told Ned and MJ not to leave anything obvious. “I just… it was from the robbery yesterday!” Peter finally stated, remembering the fact that he had skipped Spanish in order to stop a bank robbery. “Yeah, one of them threw a, um, stapler, yeah a stapler at me and I was so focused on other things that it hit me right on the neck.”

Mr. Stark didn’t say anything for a moment, just looking at Peter over the rim of his sunglasses. Peter began to fidget, his hands fiddling with the strap of his backpack. He had known having those two over to the compound last night had been a horrible idea, but Mr. Stark had assured him that it was perfectly fine and even encouraged for him to have friends around when he had training scheduled. 

Finally, Mr. Stark broke out in laughter and Peter flushed even more. “Relax Underoos, you don’t have anything on your neck, I just had to be sure. So which is it? Ned or MJ?”

“Mr. Stark!” Peter screeched for lack of anything else to say, hands fluttering a bit as he tried to figure out what to say. Which one did he admit to dating? Or maybe neither?

“Or is it both?” Mr. Stark joked, waggling his eyebrows as he did. Peter spluttered and wished the floor would just open up and swallow him whole. 

“I-I am- I’m not. I mean, that is to say, or well, we aren’t. Or…” Peter stuttered but couldn’t find anything to actually say and slowly the joking look faded from Mr. Stark’s face. 

“Pete, Peter,” he stated, voice soft and serious like it sometimes went when he wanted Peter to know that he really was proud of something Peter had done, “it’s alright. I know what polyamory is.”

“You do?” Peter squeaked.

“As long as you are all happy and willing, then I have no problem. Date who you want, be a teenager, have friends and all that rot.” Mr. Stark waved a hand carelessly even though his eyes still had that kind light in them that never failed to make Peter want to be better.

“Thank you, Mr. Stark,” Peter replied, face still as red as his suit but heart having calmed down.

“You’re door has to be open when they're here now though and FRIDAY will be watching,” Mr. Stark added, “and don’t be late for school. Oh, and you’re grounded for skipping school to stop that bank robbery, May already knows.”

“Mr. Stark!” Peter screeched again, running after him and determined to argue the point even though he was oddly happy about it all. After all, Aunt May had said almost exactly the same thing about Ned and MJ. Now if only they would stop colluding in all other areas.

-before she could say anything, someone caught her eye. 

“Harry!” She called excitedly running over to him and pulling him into a fierce hug before ending it with an even fiercer kiss. Peter followed behind her a bit more sedately. So this was Harry? 

“Hello,” Peter greeted, waving lamely for lack of anything better to do. 

“What’s wrong with him?” Harry questioned, something like hurt flashing across his face.

“I think his parents got to him again,” Gwen replied, reaching out a hand to pull Peter closer and then in between her and Harry. This was wrong, wrong, wrong, something inside Peter’s head was screaming, the rest of him relaxed into the familiar position. 

“It’s nothing,” Peter assured them, and drew Harry into a kiss and-

Peter moaned just a bit too loud as Ned sucked a mark on his neck, all teeth and suction and hints of pleasurable pain. Peter knew they shouldn’t be doing this in the computer room at school but no one ever came in here during after school club hours and it was the safest place for this. “Quiet,” Ned hissed far louder than he probably meant to and Peter pressed a firm kiss on Ned’s mouth in reply. Honestly, he had no room to talk.

“No one’s going to come,” Peter stated with far more confidence than he actually felt. 

“People have come in before,” Ned argued back and Peter sat back a bit with a huff, resting fully in Ned’s lap instead of kneeling over it. 

“When we were talking about Spider-Man,” Peter replied, remembering very distinctly all of the times they had almost been caught doing that. If they weren’t careful, everyone at school would know about Spider-Man.

“Why is that?” Ned wondered, “the only time people walk in are when we’re talking about you being Spider-Man.”

“That’s because you two are always talking about it,” another voice cut in and Peter almost fell out of Ned’s lap as Ned spun the chair they were sitting in so he could see the door. 

“MJ don’t scare me like that!” Ned gasped, and Peter pushed himself back into a proper sitting position from where he’d half slid and half fallen out of Ned’s lap.

“Pay more attention to your surroundings then. Honestly the both of you,” MJ despaired dramatically as she crossed the room towards them. “Couldn’t even wait for me could you?” She asked, poking at the hickey Ned had left on Peter’s throat.

“Shut up, MJ,” Peter whined into Ned’s shoulder and she laughed, pressing a kiss to the very spot she had been poking at. 

“Where would be the fun in that?”

-Gwen began placing soft kisses along the back of Peter’s neck. Pain burned through Peter’s side and he gasped, a broken sound of agony leaving his lips and covered only by the sound of the bell ringing. 

Harry and Gwen pulled back and Peter felt a pang of disappointment. The bell always rang at the worst moment. 

“Time for science,” Harry stated in an attempt at a cheery voice. 

Peter found an actual grin pulling at his lips. He loved science although usually he did science in his Dad's lab and-

Peter screeched as his testtube actually caught fire and Dum-E came rolling over, beeping excitedly and waving around his fire extinguisher. “Dum-E no!” Peter cried out fruitlessly as the robot happily blasted anything and everything within range in white foam.

The fire went out, but the successful web-fluid was also ruined as well as almost everything else that had been on the table. “No,” Peter moaned quietly. 

This was awful. He'd been so excited to show Mr. Stark his newest web-fluid and now it was completely ruined. 

“Young Peter?” Peter tensed, body frozen still and eyes trained carefully on the table in front of him. This was not what he needed right now.

“What?” He spat out almost viciously. What could Loki possibly want with him right now? Wasn't it enough that he'd somehow gained the attention of Mr. Stark? Did he really have to keep coming around to bother Peter, and at his most embarrassing moments too?

“Do you require help?” Loki questioned.

Peter pursed his lips and didn’t answer, staying stubbornly silent in the hopes that Loki would just leave. Peter’d been waging a subtle, at least to him, war against Loki since he’d found out Mr. Stark was dating the evil god with a desire to conquer the world. Mr. Stark should be dating someone better than that. In the beginning, Peter had thought that either Ms. Potts or Colonel Rhodes would have stopped them or done some kind of test to prove that Mr. Stark was under Loki’s control, but there had been nothing. Now, it fell to Peter to drive Loki off. Peter had no choice but to protect Mr. Stark.

Loki sighed behind Peter and the fire extinguisher foam disappeared, leaving Peter’s experiments contaminant free. “I won’t thank you,” Peter stated firmly, even though he could already hear Aunt May reprimanding him in his head. 

“I am not here to hurt him,” Loki stated instead of commenting on Peter’s rudeness. Peter almost wished he would. It would be so much easier to hate Loki if he was an actively bad person all the time and if he was mean and cruel to Peter, but he wasn’t. 

“I watched you destroy my home,” Peter replied. He hadn’t been there personally, but he’d seen it on television and the utter terror he’d felt had been indescribable. People had died and buildings had been torn down and the scar of it all could still be felt in the people who saw it, who lived it. Despite having been young and only watching it on TV, Peter still felt its effects. There was no way he could forgive and forget something like that so easily.

“You’ve heard all of the reasons and circumstances surrounding that, I have nothing left to offer you in this regard except the hope one day my actions will prove me trustworthy and reliable in all ways. For now, I will only ask that you accept my presence for your father’s sake. He despairs to see us fight, and the relationship between parent and child is far too important to lose because of me.” Loki stepped in front of Peter, forcing him to meet Loki’s piercing green eyes. “I do regret it, for all that means, and I swear on my magic that I will not harm him if it is in my power not too.”

Peter really wished he had something scathing or sassy to say back, actually if he could have said anything at all he would have appreciated it, but he was far too stuck on the fact that Loki had called Mr. Stark his father. Mr. Stark was absolutely not his father. He didn’t even do anything even vaguely fatherly!

Sure, Mr. Stark grounded him sometimes and helped him with homework and Peter always asked if he was allowed to have people over and if he could go out and Peter did have a curfew, but none of Mr. Stark’s rules ever contracted Aunt May’s. It was really more like Mr. Stark enforced Aunt May’s rules. 

Well, except when Aunt May told Peter to just ask Mr. Stark or when Aunt May wouldn’t let Peter do something because Mr. Stark had told her that he wasn’t supposed to or… “Oh my goodness,” Peter gasped, hands in his hair and eyes wide, “Mr. Stark is my father.”

Loki had been right. Loki was-

Peter looked down at his notes. Scribbled across the page was the name Loki, written over and over again and blocking any chemistry he might have actually noted down. 

Trembling, Peter dropped his pen. Pain burned in his side and Peter pressed his hand to the pain, pushing harder in the vain hope that it would help. The pain didn’t stop and Peter curled in on himself, desperate for it to stop. He tried to stand, body trembling and one hand going to his desk to steady himself. Something slipped from it and hit the floor, but Peter didn’t know what it was. He couldn’t focus on it, all he knew-

Mr. Stark was standing over him, eyes wide and panicked and terrified in a way that Peter had never seen before. “Come on Underoos, there you are. Stay with us. The medics are on there way, you just have to stay awake until they get here. That’s an order too. If you don’t obey orders you’ll never be an Avenger, Underoos.” 

It was a good thing Peter couldn’t speak, because he had no idea what to say to that. He couldn’t be an Avenger, he didn’t have a robot suit or special powers or super awesome ninja skills. Peter could barely even run a mile in ten minutes. But Mr. Stark didn’t seem to care about any of this. 

“I’m supposed to leave it in there right? Staunches the flow of bleeding or something?” Mr. Stark asked, focus shifting from Peter to Peter’s side. That was where it always hurt when he thought of the dead girl. 

Something in Peter’s chest froze. The dead girl, he’d almost forgotten about her, how could he have ever forgotten about her. “Wh-where,” he gasped out, tongue thick and uncooperative in his mouth. Maybe this time he could see her, figure out who she was and why she had died. 

“You’re in New York kiddo, the Big Apple, home to Stark Tower, or what used to be Stark Tower,” Mr. Stark finished his sentence on a mumble and Peter noted the odd amount of grey in his hair. Peter’s Dad didn’t have that much grey hair, or that many wrinkles on his face come to think of it. But that didn’t make sense because Mr. Stark was his Dad, wasn’t he?

“Dad?” Peter breathed out, shaken and unsure. “Dad, whe-where’s,” Peter flailed around for a name, any name to go with the sudden image of a fierce and vibrant girl that filled his mind, “MJ?” Peter finally gasped out, the name coming to him in a sudden burst.

“MJ, where, M-MJ,” he stuttered out again, desperate to know, to understand now that he finally had her name.

“MJ is here?” Mr. Stark questioned, voice rising slightly in panic before his expression hardened. “Vision there’s at least one, possibly two other people here, I need you to run a scan on the remains of the building and see if you can find them.”

Peter didn’t know if this Vision responded, because another face came into view, this both immediately known and never seen before, and all of his attention shifted to the newcomer. “Young Peter,” Loki questioned, voice soothing in a way Peter had never heard anyone’s voice be before, “you were fighting while in this building, and you touched something your enemies dropped. It was a Stone of Desire, do you know what has become of it?”

“S-stone?” Peter questioned, the image before his eyes fading in and out as he tried to think, but there was too much pain for that. His side burned like never before and the world was too hot and there were things stabbing painfully into his back. Nothing made sense. 

“Yes, a small black stone. You’ll find it with someone or at someplace of significance, most likely whatever drove you to desire a change in reality in the first place. Find the stone, and wish yourself out of the dream, because that is all it is young Peter, a dream. For your Father and Aunt and partners, come back,” Loki brushed a hand over Peter’s face, something almost like tears glimmering in his eyes. “For me, please come back.”

The ground beneath Peter trembled and Mr. Stark cursed. “Too late now we have to move him. Loki we’ll just have to bring the pole with us, if we stay any longer the rest of the building will collapse on us.”

Pole? Peter thought and forced his numb head to move so he could look down at himself. In his side, a metal pole stuck out, obviously having speared him through. Peter’s heart rate skyrocketed as he panic burned through him. He had to get it out, he had to, but his numb body wouldn’t move no matter how much he begged it to.

Peter startled awake, flailing beneath his bedsheet and utterly surprised at his ability to move. He hadn’t been able to move at all just a few moments before, had he? He’d been on the ground...somewhere that was too warm and too loud and...and… someone had been with him, someone important. 

But, no that wasn’t true. It had been a dream, Peter had been dreaming like he always did and something terrible had happened, but it was only a dream. As a matter of fact, Peter could prove it was a dream because there were certain things about dreams that were always true.

Peter pushed his sheets off of his body as he sat up. It had to have been a dream because he could only vaguely remember it and the longer he thought about it, the more the details faded from his mind. It had to have been a dream because the only people he ever encountered were the main two people there that he had known by name. It had to have been a dream because he couldn’t remember how he had gotten where ever it was he had been and he could remember his normal daily life. 

Just this morning he had gone to his therapist and then he was...and then he’d been at school. Except, it had been the afternoon when he’d talked with his therapist, a woman whose name and face he couldn’t remember. Why would he have had a therapist appointment in the middle of school and then gone back? 

Peter thought harder about it. He knew he’d started the day talking to his therapist, which had also been in the middle of the day, and then he’d been at school, which had somehow been during lunch, and then he...he’d gone home? He should have gone to Gwen’s house at some point or he should at least remember going home and going to bed. But maybe, maybe that had all been a dream? Maybe his life had just become so monotonous he’d recreated some of it in his dreams?

Peter reached for his phone, determined to figure out what day it was. Maybe he’d just had one of those really weird dreams where he woke up multiple times and each time he didn’t really realize he was still in the dream. Peter’s hand smacked into his lamp and it tumbled to the floor, smashing on impact. Flinching at the noise, and why was everything so loud all of a sudden anyway, Peter carefully slipped out of his bed on the opposite side of the lamp, he didn’t want to step on any glass. 

“Peter!” Peter’s door burst open Pops running through and Peter jerked back, heart pounding in his chest. “Peter are you alright?” His Pops asked once he’d scanned the room and noticed that the only thing out of place was Peter’s lamp. 

“Just fine,” Peter assured, his heart not slowing despite the fact that there was no reason for its rapid beating. His body was tense too, ready to flee or fight as needed, but that didn’t make any sense. Nothing had been making sense recently. 

“Are you sure Peter?” Pops asked, walking further into the room. Peter backed up to match him, unwilling to get any closer because he could see flashes in his mind of a shield flying at him and concrete falling on him and people fighting. Captain America wasn’t to be trusted, Peter knew that, but he didn’t know why. He’d never fought against his Pops, not once.

“I’m just tired, gonna hit the sack, hit the hay, sleep.” Peter laughed nervously, rubbing at the back of his head and wondering when he’d become so good at acting completely and utterly suspicious. 

But his Pops didn’t notice, just said a quick goodnight and left which also didn’t make sense. There was no way anyone could interpret anything Peter did as anything but suspicious, but Peter didn’t question it too much. It gave him time to prove to himself that his dreams and those weird flashes of memory were all fake. The only thing he could remember clearly, was the stone. He needed to find a black stone in a significant place, and if he couldn’t do that then obviously it was all a lie. 

Now if only he could think of why he would want to change reality. What would make him so desperate or so angry as to-

There was green magic everywhere, popping up and swirling around no matter where he went or how far he ran. And now it was here, where he was supposed to be safe and where he should always be happy. It had come into his most protected space where it was supposed to be just him and Mr. Stark. Why was it here why was it always-

Peter opened his eyes to see his Dad’s main lab. This was, this was where it had all become too much, Peter remembered. He remembered it with such stark clarity. He had always been able to retreat here where only he and Mr. Stark could go, so when the world became too much he’d come down here for a while and just relax. But then Loki had been there, Loki had invaded the one last safe space Peter had had, and Peter had snapped. 

Peter’s eyes scanned the room. This wasn’t where it had happened, where he’d fought someone and grabbed a magical stone, but this was the place where he’d decided that he wished Loki wasn’t around and that he had real parents. This was the place he’d birthed a bitter and black part of himself and allowed it to grow.

Laying innocently on a table, a little green book glowed faintly, illuminating the bits of metal around it in a sickening light. That’s right. Loki had always come down here with that book to ‘spend time’ with Peter. Peter had hated that book and he’d hated Loki. 

Carefully, Peter walked towards, hoping that he’d open it and nothing would be in there and also dreading the knowledge that something would be. He didn’t want this world to be a lie, didn’t even know what it would mean. What parts of his memory were false and what were true? Who was he even if he couldn’t remember anything? Who had he been?

Fear burning in his heart, Peter opened the book and set his eyes on an innocent looking black stone nestled within a hole burned into the pages of the book. Peter picked it up carefully, half wondering if it would disappear the moment he touched it and if he should, maybe, be in more intensive therapy. Because for all of the confusion his life had been, none of this could be real, it shouldn’t be. And yet, and yet, Peter knew this little black stone could be nothing but what the dream Loki, or perhaps the real Loki, had been telling him about.

For a while, Peter held the stone in his hands, wondering at how much power such a little thing held and also despairing at what it meant. There really was a little black stone, which meant Loki had been right all along: this was all a world that Peter had made up in his head, a world he desired. He’d really hated Loki so much, that he’d created an entire world based on the idea that the demigod didn’t exist.

Peter’s hands trembled as he thought about it more. He’d completely replaced his Aunt May and MJ and Ned. He’d changed the story and characters of Mr. Stark and Captain America. He’d made himself normal instead of ever becoming Spider Man. Was all of this really what he’d wanted?

No, no he’d been afraid and angry, but this wasn’t really what he’d wanted. He’d wanted to have a family he could lay claim to and an easier life without all of the worries and fears of his real one, but without those very worries, he wouldn’t have all of the amazing things he’d had either. MJ and Ned were irreplaceable and what did he really care if Mr. Stark wasn’t his biological Dad? He had Aunt May and Mr. Stark, who was totally his dad because Peter had even made him a Father’s Day card, and he’d had Uncle Ben and he was Spider Man. Loki was a new addition, and perhaps not exactly a welcome one, but if Peter’s Dad loved him, then Peter would just have to accept the questionable demigod as a part of his life. 

Sometime it felt like he was all alone with the world on his shoulders, but Peter had plenty of people who loved him and would help him when he needed it. Peter had everything he could ever need in the real world. 

“I want to go home,” Peter whispered, wrapping his hand firmly around the stone and focusing all of his energy on imagining his home. Him and Ned and MJ all messing around in the common room as Vision and Aunt May tried to cook an edible dinner and Mr. Stark lounging about muttering to himself as he worked on whatever new programming was holding his attention. And right next to Mr. Stark, reading some ancient tome that only he knew the language to, Loki lounged with the rest of them, just as much a part of the family as everyone else.

For a moment the world went white, everything glowing brighter and brighter until Peter couldn’t see anything and then everything went black and finally, finally, Peter opened his eyes to reality.

“Ned?” Peter questioned, voice hoarse and unsure. He could remember clearly now who Ned was and the relief of that was so sharp he could have cried. 

“Peter!” Ned cried, going in for a hug before quickly restraining himself. ‘You’ve been mumbling in your sleep for ages. I have to go get Mr. Stark and your Aunt, but stay awake alright? MJ wants to yell at you for something, but she’s sleeping right now. She took a blow to the head when the building collapsed and passed out but she’s fine.” 

Ned ran to the door, pausing long enough to turn around and say, “Oh, and if you call her Gwen one more time, she might actually kill you, just so you know,” before darting out of the room. 

Peter winced, wondering if he’d been talking outloud the entire time and calling Ned Harry. If that was true, he really didn’t want to find out who he’d been calling Pops. Peter relaxed into his pillow, his mind drifting and exhaustion clawing at him until he gave in just as Aunt May and Mr. Stark burst into his hospital room, Loki and Ned not far behind.

The next time Peter woke up, Mr. Stark and Loki were both sitting at his bedside, although Loki was the only one awake. “Young Peter,” Loki greeted with a relieved smile, the bags under his eyes making it obvious that he hadn’t been sleeping much. “It is good to see you awake once more.”

“Good to be awake,” Peter stated, he did not state that it was good to know he was actually awake. “How is everyone?” Peter questioned, eyes drifting over to Mr. Stark who looked absolutely exhausted and years older than he really was.

“You and MJ were the only ones injured, young Peter, and she is fairing well.” So he hadn’t seen MJ die then, he’d only seen her fall unconscious. “But for now go to sleep, breaking the magic cast upon you was no simple feat. Everyone will be here when you awake.”

Peter nodded, his eyelids already feeling heavy. “Wait,” he slurred out, determined to get this one last question out before he passed out again, “Dad’s not married to Captain America is he?”

“I’m not what?” Mr. Stark screeched, eyes wide and having obviously just woken up.

Loki hissed out a “Most certainly not,” in a dangerous voice as well, and Peter grinned. Right, Mr. Stark would never marry Captain America, not when he had Loki anyway.

“Just had to check,” Peter murmured as he lost the fight against his heavy eyelids, not once thinking to question why he’d called Mr. Stark Dad or how everyone had known who he was talking about despite the fact that he’d never called Mr. Stark Dad before this entire fiasco. 

Over the next few days, Peter woke up multiple times, each for a little longer than the previou time, but each time his first words were the same: “Dad? Loki?” Peter gasped out.

“Yeah, Underoos,” Mr. Stark replied, “I’m right here, and no, I’m not married to the Capsicle. You’ve asked me that every time you’ve woken up.” He was obviously trying to sound irritated, but his words were far too soft to hold any kind of actual anger.

“Thank goodness,” Peter replied relaxing back into the hospital pillows, “he sent me to therapy.”

Mr. Stark threw his head back and laughed and Peter grinned sleepily at him. “Rest, young Peter,” Loki soothed, running a gentle hand through Peter's hair. 

Everything was right in the world. Ned and MJ were both fine and sleeping in an adjacent room and Mr. Stark and Loki and Aunt May were keeping him company. He could deal with everything else later.

Mr. Stark leaned back into Loki's comforting hold and mused on the better future coming for them. Peter would be alright, and all of the tension between him, Peter, and Loki was gone. Everything would be alright, Tony would make sure of it.

“Do you think he’ll ever start calling me Pops again?” Loki questioned a moment later and Tony burst into laughter once more. 

“I really hope so Lokes, I really hope so.”


End file.
